


paralyzed

by odinsvnthor



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cheating, Dry Humping, Exhibitionism, F/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Public Orgasm, Punishment, Sexting, Threesome, Valentine's Day, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-24 12:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17704445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odinsvnthor/pseuds/odinsvnthor
Summary: Excuse me boyfriend’s best friend, I need you to come underwear shopping and tell me which set he’d find hottest as a gift. Oh, can you also come and help me and explain what contraption this is? Oh, what are you doing in here … wait, we shouldn’t do this …Alright. Maybe just this once.





	paralyzed

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this piece is just really a way for me to live out my fantasy, with two characters that have great chemistry and I happen to love. it's set in a future AU, where they're in college, so they're not necessarily true to their on-screen character portrayals, but I'm hoping that won't be too much of a problem :) it's just under 15k, and this might be some of the hottest smut I've ever bothered to write in my entire life .. so please enjoy! I'd love to hear what ya'll think!
> 
> serious s/o to drewtanner & stanclub on tumblr for both taking the time to fangirl over these two and help spur the muse for the story, as well as reading through and giving me their support. ily both <3 this ones for you

“dating in my generation

has become kissing the lips

of many devils

in search of heaven

on earth”

—

| 

book: planting gardens in graves volume II

by r.h. Sin  
  
---|---  
  
 

“Whatcha doin’?” I looked up from my phone, noticing Sweet Pea for the first time. He was my boyfriend’s roommate and long-term best friend, one I became quickly acquainted with after Fangs, and I first started dating. The two of us shared most of our quiet mornings together while Fangs attended classes, and picked up the odd shift down at the community center. Despite previous inklings I had about Sweet Pea’s displeasure with my relationship with his best pal ( _for whatever reason_ ), we managed to push past it for the sake of Fangs.  

Sweet Pea stood in the kitchen, hair soft and disheveled from his early morning nap. I held out my mug expectantly, sighing deeply when he turned with the coffee pot in his hand. “I’m trying to find something to get Fangs for Valentine’s Day.” I grumbled, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. 

He set a can of Cola on the table and joined me, sifting through the mail I collected from the mailbox downstairs. “Oh _right_ ,” he nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast, “It’s your first year spending it together officially.” His tone didn’t hold very much enthusiasm, though, that was true to Sweet Pea’s overall interest in my relationship with Fangs, period. 

“Mhm.” I hummed absently, returning my attention to my phone screen. 

It was littered in different variations of red, white and pink. Fangs and I decided that presents weren’t to be too expensive, and we agreed that gift shopping without providing ‘lists’ would make for a more personal exchange. Of course Fangs, being the devoted and amazing boyfriend he was, had already purchased my present and tucked it away in a pretty little box in his closet, topped with a bright pink bow. 

After another ten minutes of scrolling and searching through various holiday inspired merchandise, I opened up Safari and typed in the following: 

_gifts for my boyfriend for valentines day_

I found that the majority of options were for couples a little more artistically inclined. _Personalized you and me art, couples letter book, fifty-two reasons why I love you_ … they all were perfect options for the exchange we wanted, but given that I had about seventy-two hours before we would be sitting down for dinner on Valentine’s Day, I decided I didn’t have enough time ( _nor resources_ ) to complete such a project. 

I glanced up from the screen to where Sweet Pea sat comfortably in his seat, legs crossed, eyes glued to the open textbook he set in front of him. _What is there to lose?_ “Can you help me?”

With his eyes still focused on the page, he took a sip of his Cola and shrugged, “Just him get some lingerie.”

“Like … men’s lingerie?” I had seen advertisements for men’s thongs online before but didn’t strike Fangs to be that kind of man. Then again, it had only been seven months, and we were still learning about each other every day. And one thing I had learned quickly about Fangs was to expect the unexpected - his tastes differed from mine, but I was having fun exploring new territories with him. 

Sweet Pea snapped his brown orbs to mine. For a moment, I noticed how they dropped to my mouth before returning to where they should have been. Had I not been paying attention, I would have missed it entirely.

He was fighting hard to keep his amusement at bay. “No, not men’s lingerie. Lingerie for _you_.”

I lifted a brow, “Lingerie for me is a good gift for him?”

“Seriously, {y/n}, men go apeshit for that sorta stuff,” he shrugged nonchalantly, chugging back the rest of his Cola before his tongue licked from one corner of his mouth to the other. “I’m tellin’ ya. Spend fifty bucks on a silk babydoll at the mall, and call it good.”

Easier said than done if I knew what the hell a babydoll was. I didn’t want to make it known I was a lingerie virgin, but thus far, Sweet Pea’s suggestion was the only one I could afford on short notice. One I was sure Fangs would adore, no doubt.

I bit into the side of my cheek, nervous when I asked him my next question. “You’ve been friends with Fangs for a while, yeah?”

He nodded once, clearing the crumbs from his fingers with his attention refocused on his textbook. “Best friends for ten years.”

I straightened up in my seat, leaning forward onto the table. “Right. And, you’re his roommate, you know what he likes.” 

“What’re you getting at, {y/n}?” He asked with a petulant sigh. 

“Would you come with me?” my lashes fluttered with the question, painting my face with a soft and inviting smile. 

Sweet Pea studied my features with a close eye, then closed his textbook and pushed it to the side. “Go _with_ you? What for?”

“An opinion.” Victory lit my veins with a new found adrenaline; we may have bumped heads more than we cared to admit to our mutual companion, but I knew Sweet Pea was still very lenient when it came to me and my requests. I knew he wasn’t going to say no. “Come on, I won’t make you hold anything, you just have to point out what you think he might … appreciate.”

“He appreciates you enough already, _trust me_.” He reminded me with a pointed look. Fangs and I learned the hard way that the walls in the apartment weren’t the thickest, and with that came a loss of privacy. More times than we could count on both of our hands had Sweet Pea’s fist banged against the wall from the other room during one of my many impromptu sleepovers. 

Fangs promised to get him a pair of ear-plugs. 

“Sweet Pea.” He dropped his napkin onto his plate at the sound of the whine in my voice, groaning loudly as he stretched his arms above his head. I dropped my gaze down to where the hem of his shirt lifted, revealing the briefest flash of his hardened abdomen. 

I was rarely surprised by his size and body anymore, but neither of the boys seemed to realize that I was still a woman. I spent a lot of my afternoons watching the two of them move through their daily workout. I used to feel sorry for staring, could never get my eyes to stray from the bulging muscles in their arms, but now I stared shamelessly, thinking about how delicious it would be to taste the sweat right off their skin - 

Sometimes I did. Sometimes, I called Fangs into the bedroom like a siren calling a sailor, sinking a hook into him to keep him exactly where I wanted him for however long I decided. 

“Fine.” I smiled triumphantly at his defeat and sprang up from my seat to encircle my arms around his neck, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head with an excited squeal. “Alright, alright! Put some pants on, and we’ll go.”

I was already safely concealed in the bedroom by the time he stood from his seat, and when I returned to the living room with my jacket in hand, he was reluctantly shoving his feet into his boots with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. I pulled up the zipper up on my coat to keep the harsh winter air at bay, shooting him a disapproving look when he reached for the leather jacket he refused to shed despite the cold weather.

Sweet Pea held the door to the apartment open with a grimace, locking it behind us before leading me to the elevator to head to the underground parking garage. 

My stomach rolled on the ride down, knowing that Sweet Pea hadn’t traded his motorcycle for a four-wheeled vehicle like Fangs. Before we could reach the basement, I leaned forward and pressed on the button labelled ‘G.’

“Uh,” he blinked, confused with my actions. “What are you doing?”

“Do you mind if I drive?”

“What, don’t trust me?”

I shook my head, “It has less to do with you, and more to do with other drivers. Besides, it’s literally twelve degrees outside, and I don’t feel like getting hypothermia on the back of your bike.”

Sweet Pea deliberated for a moment before he shrugged nonchalantly and pocketed his keys. “After you.” he gestured forward when the doors opened to the lobby. 

My 2009 Chevrolet Trailblazer sat in the visitors parking, the deep cherry paint gleaming in the mid-February sun. Despite the cold nipping at my nose and cheeks, the day looked promising. The sun was high in the sky, clear from any clouds that could threaten to cast over; I fell into the driver’s seat, watching Sweet Pea struggle next to me. Once he could fit his long legs a little more comfortably, I pulled out of the parking lot, and he held his cigarette between his fingers, looking to me for permission. Wordlessly, I rolled the window down. 

The ride was short and quiet; Sweet Pea’s music taste was just as versatile as mine, so we hardly found reasons to argue over what song was playing. We stopped for another coffee before pulling into the mall, and once we were past the food court safely, I turned down one of the wings and headed towards the Victoria’s Secret. 

“We’re grabbing lunch on the way out.” Sweet Pea mused absently, his head turned over his shoulder as the food court disappeared from view. The boy was hungry, that was nothing new. 

“I’ll ask Fangs what he wants,” I replied in spite of the fact he wasn’t really listening, shooting my boyfriend a quick message that we had left the apartment to run some errands and grab something to eat. 

Once we reached the entrance to the store, I looked up nervously at the signs. There was a semi-annual sale happening, and the dimly lit store was covered in pretty heart-shaped cut-outs promoting which items the deal applied to. The heavy bass I recognized from a Jason Derulo song pulled me in, the sheer and lace fabric material calling out to me. 

I floated through the aisles, eyes searching over the various panties and collection of bras in wonder how anyone could afford to shop here regularly. I was aware of Sweet Pea’s presence following closely behind me, never straying too far in fear he might lose sight of me. His eyes were focused, too, running his fingers over some of the material as we made our way towards the back of the store where they kept the lingerie organized. 

The racks were covered with skimpy attires, a sea of pinks, reds, deep purples and blacks littered the sales floor. I wandered over to a rack that had something that looked a little like a sheer dress; it was red in colour, but the cups were covered in thin lace. 

“It’s not gonna bite you, {y/n},” Sweet Pea’s voice was closer than I anticipated, his warm breath washing over my shoulder. 

Finding the courage in me, I shook off the nervousness and reached out to grip the material in my fingers. It was soft to the touch, more delicate than I expected. 

Too plain. 

I dropped it, moving onto the next design. This one was a pretty rose colour with a large cut out in the midsection. It looked like it was meant to fit snugly; I picked it up off the shelf and flipped it over, surprised to see the back was an odd mess of string and lace. 

Too complicated.

After another ten minutes of searching silently, too embarrassed to turn to face the man I had foolishly dragged into the store with me, he cleared his throat and stood next to me. “What do you like?” he asked quietly, studying the piece I had in my hands. “Something loose? See-through? Maybe something with a little less material …” 

“I’m not even sure.” I admitted sheepishly, taking a step away from another contraption that was sworn to look sexy. _A broken ankle or nip slip isn’t sexy,_ I thought. “It isn’t even supposed to be about what I like, it’s what he likes.”

“You still have to wear it.” he argued, turning in a slow circle to survey the options again. He narrowed his eyes suddenly, then held up a finger, “Uno Momento.”

It wasn’t like I planned on going very far without him. I waited patiently by the sales rack, trying to avoid eye contact with the employees that lingered, their eyes all focused on the back of Sweet Pea’s frame. Some leaned into each other, whispering amongst themselves, eyes heavy with a look I could only recognize as lust.

_Fucking vultures_ , I thought, annoyance sinking into my bones. All of the women appeared to be in their early twenties, probably not much older than either of us, and their eyes were glued to his rear as he rummaged through a drawer. I shouldn’t have cared - I never had before. Sweet Pea had come home at odd hours of the night with a new girl in tow all the time, but would never entertain them long enough to make it to breakfast the next morning. 

I shouldn’t have been surprised with the girls’ reactions, honestly. Seven months ago when I first came home with Fangs, I would be lying if I said I didn’t find myself attracted to Sweet Pea. How could anyone not? I had been hypnotized. After a quiet day in bed, I wandered into the kitchen for a drink and noticed him sitting in the living room, his figure illuminated by the lamp Fangs had stuck in the corner. I remembered staring at two big black boots, jeans covered with dried blood and paint, a shirtless body that was tattooed and shining with sweat, then finally, two brown eyes, soft and attentive. 

I pushed those thoughts from my head now. _You’re dating his best friend, and you’re happy._ That wasn’t anywhere close to a lie; my time with Fangs had been the best yet, and my heart ached at the thought of waking up one morning without him in my life. His sweetness and gentle nature had been precisely what I was looking for, and couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. He was a perfectly balanced mixture of sweet and sin, naughty and nice. 

He had been a shining light in my cloud of darkness, and with him, by my side, I knew I would never have to face that darkness alone again. 

_So stop staring at Sweet Pea._

“{Y/n}? _Hellooooooo?_ ” he stood in my line of view, blocking the employees I had been staring down. I snapped back to reality, lifting my eyes to his quickly with an mischievous smile, “You okay?”

I nodded, “M’fine.”

He held up two options in his hands, lips spreading into a smirk as the heat rose into my neck and face. The material was thinner than the ones I looked at before, barely leaving anything left for the imagination. 

“Start with these,” he began, handing them both to me with an encouraging push towards the change rooms, “I’ll be right out here.” 

One of the ladies greeted me as I neared, her name tag reading Rebecca, and she a set of keys to unlock one of the doors, “These are super cute, and _soooo_ cheap right now.” she opened the door and stepped out of the way. 

“Yeah, just trying to get something for Valentine’s Day.” I responded with a weak smile, hoping I didn’t look as awkward and out of place as I felt. 

Her eyes lit up at my words, moving her gaze from me to where Sweet Pea stood to wait, “He’s quite the catch.” she commented with an approving nod, “It’s so rare we see girls bring their boyfriends into the store.”

I wanted to laugh. She really believed that Sweet Pea and I were a couple? I found that to be a bit odd, given that we hadn’t done anything that should’ve given them that idea, but it was merely because I walked in with him. 

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” I corrected, noticing the way her brows rose and lips curled into a smile. “He’s my gbf.” I added quickly, hoping the small false detail would deter her long enough to get what I needed and get out before the other girls could sink their claws into him. 

“Oh.” she blinked, failing to keep the disappointment off her face. She left me by myself, closing the door behind me so that I was hidden and concealed in the dressing room. 

I stripped quickly, carefully stepping into the first piece and pulling it up over my body. I was surprised Sweet Pea had managed to guess my size correctly; it came as a matching set with a pair of panties, was lavender in colour and accentuated all of the right places. 

I decided I didn’t totally hate the way it flowed around my torso, even liked how it made my very subtle curves all that much more intriguing. It was cute, to say the least. 

Cute wasn’t exactly what we were going for. 

I stepped out of the ensemble and switched into the second option hanging on the back of the door. This one was red and made entirely of lace. It had a keyhole cut out that started just above my belly button and extended all the way up to where it wrapped around my neck. This particular outfit wouldn’t have been something I would have chosen for myself, I was sure. 

A knock on the other side of the door interrupted my thoughts; I dropped my hands from my body and looked to where a pair of black boots stood on the other side. “Yes?” I asked. 

“Whatcha think?” Sweet Pea’s voice was so quiet, it was almost impossible to hear him over the sound of the heavy bass. 

I twisted my frame and examined my rear, “I … you think he’ll like these?” I asked, running my hands over my hips again. 

I looked nice. Better than that, even, I looked incredibly sexy. I felt sexy. 

“If you’re not sure about those, I can find something else.” he offered, his feet moving as his frame leaned against the door. 

I stared at myself in the mirror for another minute, contemplating between the two options he had already selected for me before I shrugged and draped the first option over the door for him, “I like them, but I’m looking for something with a little more uumph.” 

“More uumph?” he chuckled, removing the babydoll from the door. “ _Alright_ , I’ll be back.”

I watched the boots retreat away towards the sales floor again; once I was left alone, I swung my hips back and forth to the beat of the music, stripping the lace from my body as I hummed along. 

When Sweet Pea returned, he knocked twice and held a few other options over the door. I took them wordlessly and switched into the next ensemble; I tried on a little bit of everything, different colours and styles, but found that nearly an hour later, I still hadn’t committed to any of them. 

After spinning in my umpteenth ensemble, I growled loudly in frustration and reached around to unhook the clasp. “Maybe I should just get a matching underwear set instead.” I sighed, picking up the last of his selection. It was a simple black piece with more structure in the cups and clips hanging from the bottom. A bustier. I struggled with getting it to do up, noticing this wouldn’t be something I could slip into comfortably on my own, making the desire to purchase it dwindle slightly. 

I adjusted it to my liking, staring at the way it pressed my breasts together and up into perky hills and cinched my waist. This piece gave me a new wave of confidence, definitely was the kind of treat Fangs wouldn’t be expecting. 

My fingers pulled at the clips hanging from the bottom, brows knotting together in confusion, “Hey, Sweets?” he offered a grunt in response; I envisioned him sitting against the wall, trying to keep his eyes on his phone. “What the fuck are these things?”

“What things?” he asked, voice drifting closer as he neared the door. 

I sighed, glaring at his frame through the door. “The things!”

“What _things?”_

“The pieces hanging down off this top.” I hadn’t meant for the words to come out sassy as they had, knowing Sweet Pea’s tolerance for attitude was very minimal. 

Instead, he sighed, tapping on the door. “What top?”

“Sweet Pea, you literally just brought this in with the last batch how do you not kno-- oh my god, what are you doing!” Rebecca must not have relocked the door after she shut it; Sweet Pea squeezed into the changing room behind me, securing the door behind him. There was hardly enough room for me, let alone me plus my boyfriend’s sasquatch roommate. 

Frozen in place, it began to feel as though my body and face were on fire. I looked up at him in the mirror, cheek red in colour as he inspected the bustier on my body. It was almost like his eyes burned my skin where they moved, and the longer he stared, the more aware I became that I was standing half naked in a changing room with my boyfriend’s best friend. 

“These things.” I swallowed nervously, relieved when my voice came out strong. 

“Turn.” he instructed, a little breathlessly. Doing what he asked, I felt his hands come up to guide me carefully until I was facing him; staring up at his features, I strained my eyes against the dim lighting to read the emotion plainly displayed. He lifted one of the clips, tugging on the hem of the top teasingly, “This attaches to stockings. Helps keep them up.” 

Stockings. That made sense. I looked down at my bare legs, thinking about how they probably had those closer to the checkout. “I think this one will do, then.” I replied evenly. Sweet Pea nodded in agreement, smoothing his fingers over the material. “What are you doing?” I asked quietly, and this time, my voice wavered. 

He chose not to respond. Instead, he took his time dragging his finger along the side of my top to my shoulder, then along my collarbone to my neck; he let his hand rest there, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape. My body erupted in a fresh coating of goosebumps, his warm touch shooting straight to my core. 

I imagined Sweet Pea touching me like this before. Thought about his arms wrapping around me securely, and his hands masterfully bringing me pleasure. I heard him return with his late night booty calls on multiple occasions, so I knew he was no amateur at what he was capable of doing. 

I shuddered at the thought. 

The way his eyes studied me now was almost sinful, and I wondered what he was thinking. Maybe all this time, he had noticed me the way I had seen him. And maybe I had turned a blind eye when I felt his eyes lingering on me longer than they should have been. Truthfully, it felt comforting knowing that I had careful eyes keeping tabs on me. Between he and Fangs, I was sure I was considered an untouchable. 

“{Y/n}, you are …” he sucked in a deep inhale, eyes boring into mine as he searched for the right word, “Breathtaking.”

Inadvertently, I found myself leaning into his scent, “Sweet Pea …” it came out a little breathless. Smiling at the sound of my voice, he ran his thumb over my lip, taking one final step to close the distance between our bodies, securing me between him and the wall, resolution obsolete.

The surface was cold against my bare skin, easing the heat saturating my arms and back. He dropped his hands down the length of my frame, nosing his way into the crook of my neck to inhale again. 

I couldn’t stop myself. 

I lifted my hands to slide up and around his neck, craning my head to the left to offer him a little more access; he noticed my effort and made a sound in approval, ghosting his lips over my pulse, tongue tracing along its rapid beating. His hands grabbed at my ass, prompting me to jump and wrap my legs around his waist tightly. I ran my fingers through his gorgeous hair, savouring the way it fell between my digits with ease. 

We’re both stealing time now, together. 

“We shouldn’t,” I said quietly after a moment, watching as Sweet Pea’s eyes darted back and forth from my mouth to my eyes. “Fangs is waiting for us at home.”

Lowering his face until we’re merely millimeters apart, he rubbed his nose against mine, our lips hovering dangerously close together. He gasped quietly against my lips as I rocked against him a little. He wasn’t expecting this. Come to think of it,  neither was I. He hesitated momentarily, then leaned forward kissing me softly. His lips, soft and warm, moved against mine with demand and force. I deepened it, feeling slightly desperate now as his fingers pushed my thighs apart to touch me through the thin material between them.

“ _Oh!_ ” I gasped a little into his mouth, his fingers started to move in licentious circles against me. Our tongues moved together hastily; he was on a mission, now, that much I could tell. I was familiar with it. Knowing that Sweet Pea had a lot of practice made me feel like I’d found a small piece of heaven in the middle of my own personal hell.

He kissed me reverently, then more hungrily as I began to rock my hips a little against the pressure of his fingertips. There was a small part of my coherent brain that was screaming this was wrong, was scolding me for chasing my orgasm, but I tried to push those thoughts ( _and Fangs_ ) aside. Sweet Pea hummed deep in the back of his throat. Pulling his hand away to drop down on his knees; then returned his hand again – this time underneath my panties.

His tongue licked one, long purposely stroke directly up the middle of my heat, circling my clit teasingly, before he sealed his mouth over the mound completely. The heat of a blush suffused my cheeks, but instead of screwing my eyes shut tightly like I usually would, I surprised myself by opening them wide. 

I was shocked to find Sweet Pea watching me avidly with eyes that all but smouldered.

I held his gaze, moaning as quietly as I could as he moved purposely, slipping one of his long, thick fingers inside me. The odd angle and his insatiable tongue made me shiver pleasurably, a hot coil building in the very base of my abdomen. Seconds pass, and we don’t tear our eyes away from each other. It feels as though they’re frozen, locked with his until the moment when - 

It hits me unexpectedly. I gasped out, louder than before. Each shocking wave hit me harder than the last, the sensation leaving me rutting my hips forward against his mouth. He moaned against me, tongue ravishing every crevasse, fingers bruising my thighs.

Once he had cleaned me, we were left to stare at each other, chests heaving with the growing electricity between us. There was no escaping this now. We had crossed a line. Ultimately, this could end terribly for the both of us. I had a loving boyfriend, someone who genuinely cared about me, and he had a best friend. 

Guilt surged through my core, the emotion so powerful I immediately felt the nausea roll angrily in my stomach.

“We should head back,” I whispered, my throat dry, and the moment between us is broken by my fear, and he stood. “You’ve been gone too long, the girls will notice.”

He nodded in agreement, and ( _was it my imagination, or did he look a little disappointed?_ ) then disentangled himself from me. “I like this one.” he stepped back, hand searching for the knob blindly to leave me by myself to switch back into my clothing. I remained against the wall, trying to wrap my head around what had happened. Why he had bothered coming in at all, what he really thought was going to come of this.

Then, the anxiety of what to do next. Should I tell Fangs? Of course, I should. When was the question. And how. How did I tell him? Did we tell him together? No, that might raise more questions.

The girl staring back in the mirror was the same girl as before, only now her hair was a little unruly, and her cheeks were painted with a delicate blush. My body moved in a slow, controlled movement. Just like a robot. I pulled my jeans back up my body, and slipped my shirt over my head, exiting the dressing room. 

Sweet Pea was nowhere in sight. He wasn’t waiting in the back where the changing rooms were, and when I wandered towards the register to pay, he wasn’t anywhere else in the store. I purchased the bustier and a few pairs of panties, weight lifting off my shoulders as I exited the store and stood outside in the mall corridor. 

I looked around, wondering where Sweet Pea had gone and if he had wandered very far. After searched the crowd a dozen times, I spotted his familiar black boots and fluffy hair standing on the other side of the door to one of the exits, cigarette perched between his lips. He didn’t seem to mind the cold and seemed too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice that I had joined him. 

“You still hungry?” I asked when he threw the cigarette butt on the ground, putting it out with his boot.

“Always.” he replied coolly; he had returned to his usual demeanor, no longer looked down at me with heavy lids, didn’t seem phased by anything that just happened. He followed me back into the mall and to the food court, not having much else to say other than his portion of the order, and that the boys needed toilet paper for the bathroom. 

The drive home was mostly silent; I flipped on the radio for some background noise, but that mostly because I was hoping to drown out the sound of my hollowed breathing and gurgling stomach. 

Fangs was waiting patiently on the couch for us when we returned, game controller in hand, feet propped on the coffee table. He lifted his eyes from the screen long enough to press a tasteful kiss to my lips before he noticed the food Sweet Pea unpacked in the dining room. His nose carried him the rest of the way while I disappeared into the bedroom with my concealed bag, hiding it under his mattress. 

I stared down at where it was hidden for a few moments, buyers remorse tugging at every heartstring. More than that, I felt awful for what had happened in the change room. Felt even worse for wishing I had taken advantage of the moment to give myself more of a reason to feel guilty. 

I joined the boys at the table, smiling appreciatively up at Fangs as he set a plate down in front of me, heaping mountains of potatoes and gravy filling well over half the plate. As hungry as I was, my body had a hard time swallowing what had been put on my plate, listening intently to the conversation taking place between the boys, thinking maybe just maybe Sweet Pea and I could keep Victoria’s Secret only between the two of us. 

 ❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

 

I woke Valentine’s morning in an empty and cold bed. Much to his dismay, Fangs still had two lectures before noon, followed by a short shift at the Centre. Even without being able to be home to spend the morning with me, he found a way to make it special. Roses were perfectly placed in a vase on the kitchen table, along with a card that read:

_My Angelita,_

_I’m sorry I couldn’t be home this morning - I hate this as much as you do. I’ll be home annoying (and loving) you before you know it. I love you so much, have a good day!_

_P.S don’t forget to feed Snoring Beauty_

Surprisingly, I didn’t have to wake Sweet Pea. By the time I retreated from Fangs’ bedroom after my shower, he was already waiting with a stack of pancakes placed in front of his seat, and mine. 

Later that same evening, from my place secured in the bathroom, I could hear Fogarty’s boots as he entered the apartment. After a short pause and what sounded like an agitated grumble, his footsteps retreated, prompting the corners of my mouth turn upwards in a smile. The snow hadn’t let up since it started the evening before, covering the sidewalks and streets all over the town, and he knew I had been up since five this morning anxiously cleaning.

He was off wiping his boots. How thoughtful. 

“ _Angelita?_ You here?” he called into the apartment, greeting Sweet Pea briefly before I heard his feet move into the kitchen. I warmed at the sound of my nickname, simply adore the way it rolled off his tongue with ease. 

“Bathroom.” I called back, pulling up my lashes with the mascara wand. I had spent the better half of the last hour primping for the evening; my makeup was sprawled across their bathroom counter, and my dress with the shower curtain. I jumped a little at the knocks on the bathroom door, which was followed by the knob jiggling. I pressed myself to the door hastily, “Don’t come in!”

I was surprised to hear Sweet Pea groan, his head hitting the door. “I really have to pee, {y/n},” he complained.

I rolled my eyes and pushed off the door, flipping the lock to keep him out. “No way, I just got your raunchy ass out of here.” I grimaced, thinking about how unbearable it had been trying to stand in the tiny space and curl my hair after he’d walked in here and dropped a bomb. 

After a short pause, there was another tap on the door. This time, Fangs spoke. “I see an opened gift out there. I’m hoping that wasn’t for me?”

I swiped some bronzer on, hoping to bring some colour to my complexion. “No, it was for Sweet Pea.”

“No gift for me?” He was teasing, but he tried to make himself sound pouty. 

I laughed once. “Oh, there’s a gift for you, too. But I figured everyone deserves a little chocolate on Valentine’s Day.” Sweet Pea had announced he had a date for the evening, also, but I knew that his last-minute acceptance to the frat Valentine’s Date Party had been to appease one of his frequent flyers. 

Though I couldn’t see him, I was sure he was smiling, “Always a sweetheart, {y/n}. Are you almost done?”

“Can’t rush perfection.” I reminded him, worrying with my hair again.

“If you saw what I saw in the morning, you would know you’re already there.”

Twenty minutes later ( _after playfully snapping a few photos in my newly purchased lingerie_ ), I was slipping the red bodycon dress over my head and bustier carefully, and then walked into the living room where Fangs and Sweet Pea stood. They were watching the television, remote in Fogarty’s hand, a bottle of beer in the Sweet Pea’s. In the last seventy-two hours, my poker face had been substantially tested when I was in their presence, but tonight it was no match for the fact that the boys were both wearing dress shirts and ties.

It was official. I had seen everything.

Sweet Pea was the first to notice me enter the room, knocking his fist against his best friends chest with his mouth hung just slightly ajar. His warm brown orbs were locked on mine, but only momentarily. Then, they travelled downwards, taking their time to really appreciate all of my curves. There was something about the way his eyes watched me that made me feel sinful and warm. 

When I brought my eyes to gauge Fangs; as always, he was already staring so reverently at me, I found it a little hard to breathe. I could already tell what he was thinking, and I knew that the dress wouldn’t last once we made it home. I would be lucky if it were still held together at the seams come dawn. There was so much devoted passion and love in the intensity of his gaze, I felt like I could drown in it. 

And then I wanted to die. 

All of this day, this meaning, this celebration of love was for nothing when I had done what I’d done. I swallowed nervously, suddenly wishing Sweet Pea would excuse himself or look away because his eyes hungrily drinking me in was not helping me. At all. 

Fangs turned to greet me, setting the remote on the coffee table. “Simply ravishing. I am a lucky, lucky guy,” he mused delightfully, walking toward me until I was encircled in his strong arms. His lips gently pressed against mine, and then they traveled across my jaw, past my ear, and then down my neck to my collar bone. I couldn’t help but sigh and relax under his touch.

“You’re wearing a tie,” I replied softly, running my fingers down the material of his arms in awe.

He leaned away and looked down, examining his work. “I sorta hate it, but I figured you’d come out and take my damn breath away, so I figured why … not.” He paused, observing my face carefully, “You hate it, too.”

I shook my head, fixing it around his neck, “Not at all. Actually …” taking my bottom lip between my teeth, I pushed myself up to his ear, “I’m considering the idea of staying home.” My voice dropped with the suggestion, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. Sweet Pea still heard my words; however, his eyes glancing sideways at me from over Fogarty’s shoulder, brows lifted and mouth taut. 

Fangs smiled and proudly ran his hand down his front. “Tempting offer, _Angelita_ , but we’ve got reservations.” He paused at the door to help me into my coat, fixing my hair before he held grabbed hold of his winter coat. Smiling appreciatively ( _and thanking the Gods he had some sense in him_ ), I followed him out to the elevator.

Once behind the closed doors, he turned to me with a wicked grin, stepping forward to press me to the mirror. Not too rough, but just enough. I laced my fingers behind his neck, nuzzling my nose just under his earlobe. He smelled incredible. The more I thought about it, the more I thought we _should_ stay home. Sweet Pea would have been leaving shortly, anyway. I could put my gift to use sooner and skipped the part where I worried about being too bloated after eating red meat.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and controlled. “This is going to be a very long, exciting evening. Do you think you can you can do one thing for me? It would make one of your gifts just a little better.” 

_One_ of my gifts? “What’s that?” It came out a little breathless, his lips just barely brushing over mine in a featherlight kiss. I wanted to chase them, but I knew better. He would only keep teasing. 

The intensity of his gaze grew with each floor we descended. He placed a hand on either side of my face, tilting it upwards, “Submit.” 

The word rang in the space around us. His voice has been clear, and direct. There was no mistaking the convection. When he dropped his hands, taking mine in his to exit into the underground parking garage, I inhaled as much as I could without drawing too much of his attention. 

Suddenly, everything was too tight and constricting. The dress, the bustier, even my stilettos. 

Within half an hour, we were sitting at the bar of Ennio’s, a local Italian restaurant. The place was overflowing with guests and staff, but we were fortunate enough to find a couple of empty seats at the bar while we waited for our table to be ready. Looking around at the crowd, I noticed many other patrons wearing varying shades of red, white and black; most of them were accompanied by a partner.

My phone vibrated in my lap; I turned it over and read the message, curious to know why Sweet Pea would be messaging me.

 

_If you were mine, we definitely wouldn’t be sitting in a restaurant letting that gorgeous outfit go to waste._

 

My reply was haste, hoping Fangs would be kept preoccupied with the high flames coming from the gentleman sautéing on the other side of the room.

 

_It’s not going to waste if I’m turning everyone's head._

 

Swallowing thickly, I rested it on the table next to my drink. That wasn’t an entire lie. I’d caught a few older gentlemen glancing sideways at us when we walked in, and only moments ago I met eyes with a younger man on his way to the restroom. They had definitely been watching me closely, but I usually didn’t like to pay attention to those kinds of details. I shouldn’t. I had Fangs. 

Taking a sip from my straw, I noticed Fangs frowning. “What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, stomach pitted and hollow.

He seemed torn, deliberating on whether or not he really wanted to answer before he met my gaze, looking almost apologetic. “I wanted tonight to be special. This is kind of lame.” he admitted, glancing around. 

“Lame? Sure, we’re a bit underdressed - well, I mean, you’re underdressed. _I_ , however, look like I belong outside on the street corner -”

“You look gorgeous, {y/n},” he interrupted, taking one of my hands in both of his reassuringly. The dress had been pushing it, truthfully. He was just too appreciative of it to say so. “I just wanted our first Valentine’s to be remarkable, I guess. Look at all of the people here,” he gestured around at the tables and booths filled with couples. “As fancy as they are, they’re still doing the same shit we are.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Sitting in the same room as those considered ‘elite’ in the town of Centreville meant that Fangs had been saving for this evening for quite some time. Glancing around the brightly-lit room again, I wondered just how much money he was forking out to afford the evening, and then felt terrible for him spending any of it on me. 

My phone vibrated again under my arm. I turned it over to glance at the message, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

_You’re the face they’re gonna think of when they’re all fucking their wives later tonight. Are you proud about that?_

A woman yelled over the dozens of conversations humming throughout the room. “Fogarty?”

The only response I could afford to send him was one of the suggestive photos I had taken earlier in the bathroom; I was standing facing the mirror, phone strategically covering my face whilst it focused on the attire I wore. 

Then, I looked up from my phone to Fangs expectantly, waiting for his signal. He stared back, gnawing on the inside of his cheek for two heartbeats before he stood from his barstool and offered his hand with a beautifully charming smile. “Table for two.” 

The hostess led us further into the restaurant, expertly weaving her way between tables with her blonde ponytail swaying back and forth. We stopped near a corner booth, where it curved into a three-fourth circle; it was decorated with an assortment of red roses, a bottle of expensive looking champagne and two tall crystal glasses. It looked like something out of a movie.

“Fangs…” he was smiling proudly, obviously pleased with my reaction. It was a gorgeous sight. And then, with another thought, I realized this was a gorgeous sight created and orchestrated for _me_. I tried not to let the guilt that slowly ate me alive from the inside out take away from the romantic aspect of the entire gesture.  

We sat closely together in the middle, his arm placed around my shoulders, a hand on my arm. “I’ve preordered everything to save on time, so we’ve got some calamari and spinach dip on the way out.” 

I nodded at his choices, lifting one of the glasses of water to my lips. “Sounds good.” 

“And garlic bread,” he added, following my actions.

I looked up at him, no doubt with excitement. “With cheese?” 

“And marinara.” 

I leaned forward, unable to contain the smile my lips lifted into when I pressed my mouth to his. “You’re a dream, Fangs, you know that?” How he could ever think this was boring and lame was beyond me - I was completely awe-struck.  

“I love you.” If I could have, I would have instantly melted. Fangs rested a hand on my thigh, dimpled cheeks reeling me in as he continued, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman quite like you, and you truly are a God-given blessing. All of tonight is my gift to you.” 

I knew Fogarty didn’t practice any religious beliefs daily, weekly, or even monthly, but I knew faith was a large part of his mother’s life and therefore was a large part of his growing up. To hear him say the words so solemnly was surprising, but they resonated so deeply with me, I laced my fingers with his. 

“I love you, too.” 

I could hardly believe how perfectly the evening was going. Fangs didn’t look like he had the slightest clue about what happened at Victoria’s Secret. Of course, I planned on telling him and felt terrible for putting it off until after Valentine’s Day was over, but I saw no reason to crush his spirit. It was selfish. I fully expected him to hate me entirely after the fact, but decided one more evening to myself wouldn’t hurt. Just one more night. 

After happily chewing the last of his chocolate cheesecake, he settled back into the booth with a defeated and full look as I nibbled on my skillet cookie. We were nearly two bottles deep into our evening; when he turned to me after finishing the last of his glass, he murmured that he would be back. I watched him disappear towards the front of the restaurant, phone in hand as he departed from our private section in the back. 

I pulled out my phone, unlocking the unread messages. One from my mother wishing me a safe trip home because of a storm rolling in, and two from Sweet Pea. 

_Does goody-two-shoes even touch you in public? Under the table? Follow you to the bathroom? Probably not._

_Is he with you?_

I sighed, biting my lip as I typed a response - to all of his questions. 

_No_. 

His reply was almost immediate. Attached was a photo, and even though I was alone with nothing and no one to possibly see, I covered the screen anyway. After a few controlled breaths, eyeing the entrance for Fangs to return, I peeked down between my hands to examine the photo. 

A large hand. Unmistakably _his_ large hand, his rings, and his thumb tattoo gripped tightly around the base of a rather sizeable, favourably girthy cock. 

_This is your fault._

I swallowed, throwing all caution to the wind with my response. 

_What would you like me to do about it?_

I held my breath, watching the three little dots in the bottom corner pend, then his response came through.

_I’d like to finish what we started. Does that sound alright?_

The words stared back at me. He was asking, honestly asking, and I couldn’t even fathom giving him a reply. Was he being serious? 

_How do you fare with dancing?_

I blinked, confused and taken aback by the sudden change of topic. I wasn’t given any time to respond, noticing Fangs returning from the front of the restaurant. I slipped the phone away and leaned back in the booth, smiling as he approached. 

“Waving the white flag?” he questioned, gesturing to the half-eaten and picked apart cookie with a knowing smile. “I hope you’re not too full for the next part of our evening.”

I lifted my brow, curiosity pulling me from my seat and to his side. We left the building into the bitter February winter; I folded my arms across my chest to keep the cold at bay while we waited for the car to be brought around. He hadn’t given me much detail as to where we were heading next, though he seemed entirely at ease, which certainly helped calm my own nerves. 

The ride was short. We had reached our destination sooner than I anticipated, and I had barely thawed my toes by the time the car was parked. I glanced out at the sign, a small shiver trailing down my spine as I recognized the letters. “What’re we doing here?”

“Get your ass outta the car, and I’ll show you.” He was holding the door open expectantly, hand stretched out for mine, but his words were playful and light. I slipped my fingers with his, abandoning my coat in the Charger to follow him towards the large red front door with my arms clad and bare. 

Devon, a student from Centreville U that I recognized, stood at the door with his arms folded across his chest. His muscles stretched the sleeves of his red shirt, the bold white letters reading **SECURITY** were stamped to the back. There wasn’t a lineup anymore, it was far too late into the evening for anybody to be standing outside for longer than ten minutes at a time, meaning we were in and past coat-check quicker than any other night we’d come. 

I’d been to Beta a handful of times with the boys, and surprisingly enough, it had been the place I first started talking to Fangs. It was underground, and a little dingy, but the number one hangout for all students in Centreville. Off to the right was the slightly elevated dancefloor and DJ booth. There was a backdrop for group photos to commemorate your night should you wish, but the majority of patrons that stood in the booth corner were older and considered regulars. Parallel to that was the front bar, where I spent the least amount of time. It was always far too rowdy, and if I didn’t bring someone with me, I could spend my entire night standing there waiting to be served. 

Then, there was the only reason why we bothered to come at all. The pool tables were lined up in a row, flanked with circular tables and stools a little further back in the corner for a more intimate setting. 

It was a little slice of heaven in our very own personal hell. Centreville was rumored to be so small, you could drive straight through town in under seven minutes if you were lucky with the traffic lights. 

So it was no surprise to me that when we weaved our way through the crowd to our regular table in the back, Sweet Pea preoccupied one of the stools. His tie was loosened around his neck, raven curls falling into his face as he absently watched the dancefloor and sipped on his beer. 

I thought about the photos sitting in our conversation, thought about what happened in the change room. For the second time that evening, my outfit felt too tight, and I felt slightly nauseous. I glanced sideways at Fangs, brow lifting in question. His smile didn’t serve as much of an answer, and when we neared the table, I found that there were already shots and drinks waiting for our arrival. 

“Did you plan this?” I asked over the music, leaning into his ear as we took our stools next to his roommate. 

Fangs’ grin widened, handing me one of the three golden liquors that had been poured into the shot glasses. “It was a last minute change of plans. Sweet Pea bailed on the date party.”

“Did he?” I looked over to where the other sat, his tattoo half-hidden behind his ruined collar, beckoning to me like a crookedfinger. Under the flashing lights, it reminded me of that first night, and I remember how close I had come to going home with _him_ instead. I wasn’t sure what kind of game he was playing, but I never thought he would have pulled something like this. “Not sure why you agreed to go in the first place.”

“Self-deprecation.” He replied with a shrug. 

I screwed my face into a grimace, clinking my shot with Fangs’ before we threw our heads back and swallowed in unison. “Twisted sense of humour.” I managed to breathe out once the trail of burning liquid was relieved with the chase of cheap beer. 

“Lexi O’Neil was a bad choice, dude,” Fangs slapped his friend on the back encouragingly, offering him a sympathetic smile, “No worries. We’ll get you a new doe with long legs, ain’t that right, _Angelita?_ ” 

I swallowed the liquid in my mouth, narrowing my eyes across the table. Sweet Pea only looked slightly amused, pushing another small glass filled with the amber liquid towards me. “‘Course she will.” 

Feeling my eyes settle into a glare, I took the shot between my fingers and threw it back quickly. This time, the burning sat in my stomach. My arms and legs felt a little warmer, but that could have been from the humidity in the club. Okay, now I was really confused. What was his plan? Did he really have Fangs bring us to Beta to have us play wingmen for a night? And it had to be _this_ night? 

My phone vibrated; I looked down at the screen. 

_If looks could kill, I think your boyfriend would be dead._

I replied hastily, not even caring for the looks they both served when I slammed the device back onto the table top. Hopefully, that would keep Sweet Pea and his suggestive comments to himself. 

After another two rounds of tequila, we were four ( _or was it five?_ ) shots and three drinks deep; I stood from the table, fixing my dress around my waist and rear while Fangs held out his arm, strictly for precautionary measures. I had full intentions of making my way to the dancefloor, heavy bass of the music blaring from the speakers that hung in every corner calling my name. In need of a distraction, I draped my arms around Fangs’ shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck, slowly making my way to his ear. 

“What’re you doing, _Angelita?_ ” He asked quietly, only enough so that we could hear. 

“Dance with me.” I hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whine, but he seemed alright with the tone I had taken on. I hugged myself closer to him; now we were face to face, and his hands rested on my ass, kneading it between his palms. His brown orbs were difficult to read in the dim light, but it wasn’t too difficult to see that the alcohol was doing its job. 

Fogarty’s mouth twitched in amusement as he leaned forward, sealing his lips over mine. I carded my fingers through the short hair at the back of his head, sighing at the first taste of his tongue. There was a grumble behind us, sounding close to a _‘be right back’_ ; I assumed Sweet Pea didn’t want to spend any more of his time watching his best friend suck face with me. 

Feeling slightly victorious, I pulled back far enough to tilt my head towards the dancefloor. Fangs blinked twice, standing from his stool as my feet carried us towards the sea of moving bodies, a mixture of long legs and swaying hips. This was territory I was familiar with. I spent many nights indulging my cravings for cheap beer and loud music, preferring Beta’s dancefloor, with next to no cares in the world. 

Fangs placed his hands on my waist, pulling me into him again, our hips fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. We had numerous nights of practice, our movements falling into step. Hell, this is exactly where we met, and how we met. It wasn’t unlike any other night, and it still gave me a pleasant fluttering in my stomach. With my rear pressed against him, and his hands happily running along my body, it was almost as if the last seventy-two hours hadn’t existed. 

In this bubble I created, this false picture I was feeding my inebriated mind, I didn’t think I was a sorry excuse for a girlfriend. It was Valentine’s, and I was wearing a beautiful set of lingerie whilst dancing against one of the hottest ( _understatement of the century_ ) guys in the club. 

The rhythm switched to something I recognized, filling the spaces between grinding bodies with Sean Paul’s voice. This song I knew well, it had become part of my showering playlist. From over the crowd, I could see where Sweet Pea stood; he held his drink in one hand and had his arm wrapped around some pretty girls shoulders. She was tall, and blonde, and was wearing what I could only assume was a shirt that she forced into a dress. 

_Stupid vulture._

My hips moved with the new tempo, words tumbling past my lips as I sang along, eyes slipping shut to focus on the feeling of the travelling hands that wandered the canvas of my body, pushing all of the outrageous jealousy from my mind. 

_Sey mi God bless, you don' know what's next_ _  
_ _Tear off your clothes and you dunkno a mad sex_

Fangs took my hand, twirling me so that I was facing him. With a playful smile, I lifted my arms to slide around his neck, holding myself close to him. In the midst of all the sweat, his cologne still delicious and heavenly. With a thin sheen coating his neck, he hummed knowingly and tilted his head back as my tongue ached to taste. I ran it up from his collar to his ear, tugging playfully on his lobe before I pulled back to smile. He touched his forehead to mine, his lips twisted into his own wicked grin, chasing after me for a chaste kiss, once, twice, three times - 

A second set of hands found purchase on my hips. They were larger, yet somehow still familiar. And then I could smell it. Thick and heavy. So different from Fangs. The kind of scent girls turned their heads for, the only kind men wore in this type of atmosphere.

Or, more specifically, the only kind Sweet Pea wore when we spent our nights here. 

The hands, they kept me in place, their fingers bruising my flesh as I was sandwiched between two bodies. Both equally hard and warm, it was hard not to moan audibly. Fangs brought his lips to my ear, clearly amused with my surprise and confusion, “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

**Submit.**

The word repeated like a deafening echo, louder than the music blaring from the speakers, and despite all of the parts of my body that were screaming otherwise, I took a deep breath in an attempt to give him just what he asked for. I knew I could trust him, and so I did just that, as difficult as it was proving to be. 

Thankful for my willingness, Fangs found his way into the crook of my neck, teeth appreciatively nipping my skin. The second set of hips continued as he took a step away from us, leaving me in the capable hands of Sweet Pea. Turning on my heels to face him,  I was pulled closer immediately, eliminating any space that could have existed between our bodies. His eyes were dark, and swimming from the tequila, mouth taunt with a smirk.

But still, he watched me with wonderment.

Moving my hips with is, I placed my palms flat against his chest, slowly easing them upwards until they were resting comfortably around his neck; I let my fingers play with the hair at the nape, amazed that it felt as soft as it did. 

_The way you say it got me feeling like I'm faded_

_The way you do it got me wishin' we were naked_

Friction between my thighs was making my palms sweat profusely. I couldn’t tell if Sweet Pea was aware that the way his leg had wedged between mine was downright sinful, and anybody that was paying close enough attention would have definitely known that I was, essentially, dry humping it on the middle of the dance floor. 

The tempo building in the beat meant our bodies moved faster to match, and the closer I felt myself crawling to that edge, the less I cared about somebody watching. Everyone could have been watching, and I was sure I wouldn’t have given a shit. Heat pooled in my lower abdomen, and desperate to finish what had started, I locked my arms in their position, practically burying my face into his neck. I could hear Sweet Pea’s quiet chuckle, the sound igniting sometime deep inside me. 

“Atta girl,” he purred, encouraging my movements with his bruising grip. 

It was as though his words where the final push; with an incredible amount of restraint, I hid my face against his slick skin, lips falling open with an elicit moan that could (hopefully) only be heard by the two of us. 

Two things were certain: 

 

  * I had never done this before, most certainly not in a club, and
  * No one had ever been able to make me cum that fast.



 

And then I felt Fogarty return, his warmth pressing against my back, keeping my body in place as his hands replaced Sweet Pea’s. I was thankful that he was a little more gentle. Song after song, we remained in this position; sometimes, Fangs would pull my hair to the side and sink his teeth into my skin, adding to the neverending marks that collected there. 

Midnight had come and gone, and as bodies shuffled towards the bar for the last call, we were stumbling from the dancefloor back to our unattended table. More amber liquid poured, two more shots, another three drinks, and several stolen kisses in a dark corner later, sober Fangs led me towards the Charger, whilst drunk me pulled Sweet Pea along by his belt loops. 

We spent five minutes bickering back and forth in the cold, trying to decide who would sit shotgun on the ride home. Once it had settled, and we were safely inside the vehicle, Fangs blasted the heat from the vents and handed me my jacket from the front seat; then, once ensured we were buckled in, he spun onto the street.

Another reason why I had fallen in love with Fangs: he drove fast. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t completely obsessed with his car. With the engine revving, increasing in speed as he zipped through the late-night traffic expertly, I could almost pretend as though it was something from a Vin Diesel movie. I sat in the middle seat in the back, watching the neon signs from downtown flash by, knowing that I was only anxious to get home and continue what had been started. 

As though he could read my mind, Fangs looked up at me in the rearview mirror and grinned, ear to ear. 

 ❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅

Warm and loose from the liquor, I collapsed onto the bed with a giggle, hooked finger beckoning Fogarty into the room. He apprised me thoughtfully as he came around to my side, drinking in my exposed legs, admiring where the red dress clung to my curves. He began to adjust his sleeves, rolling them to his elbows when he began to speak, “That was quite a show you gave everyone, Angelita.”

Grinning innocently, I rolled over onto my stomach, now eye level with his trousers. “What do you mean, baby?” 

He chuckled, placing a hand on the back of my head as if he were going to guide me forward. My mouth salivated, eyes glued to the growing strain I could see in the light of the bedside lamp. “Cumming in the middle of the dancefloor, with my best friend, and all over his leg.” 

**Shit**. _Shit shit shit._

Paralyzed by the onyx in his eyes, I swallowed thickly, feeling the guilt take over the alcohol in my system; then it felt as though someone had slapped me sober. I felt my mouth fall open, desperate to give some sort of explanation, but I couldn’t form a coherent sentence. 

Fangs brought a hand to caress my cheek, pulling me up to him until I was kneeling in front of him, now staring straight into his eyes. “At first, I thought I might be upset, and even jealous, because your mine and he’s my best friend. But who would’ve ever thought that it’d turn out to be the **_hottest_** shit I’ve ever seen.”

To say I was surprised was a severe understatement. I ran a hand through my hair to pull it from my eyes, brows coming to meet in the middle as I repeated his word in my head, “Wait, wait, wait,” I held a hand up, trying to make sense of his statement, “You … thought that was hot?” 

Fangs shrugged, a smile pulling his lips up in the corners, hands smoothing down my arms, sounding incredibly nonchalant as he shrugged, “I’m into some weird shit, {y/n}. Sue me.”

That was it. I had to tell him. If I didn’t tell him now, I might never - and if what he was saying is true, then perhaps we could get past what happened at Victoria’s Secret. 

“Fangs, there’s something I have to tell you,” my voice was thick with nervousness, holding his shirt to keep myself steady when as my first dizzy spell hit me. “What happened at Beta wasn’t the … first time something like that has happened.” He cocked his head, which I took as a silent indication to continue. 

With his eyes fixed intently on me, it was hard to breathe.  How many times had I looked at him and felt like I was melting? Too many. How was it that he could take my breath away, even after all this time? It was hard to think. His features remained calm and smooth, and for just a moment, I envied his ability to keep his composure. 

“The other day, when I was out with Sweets getting food …” I couldn’t even stop myself. I squeezed my eyes shut, hands holding his wrists as he took my face between his palms, I blurted out the rest as fast as I could, just like ripping off a bandaid. “He ate me out in a changing room.”

I was met with silence. Six heartbeats go by before he inhaled deeply. His hands didn’t move from their position, and if anything, I could have sworn I felt him step closer. “I’m surprised that hasn’t happened sooner.” 

Now, I was _really_ confused. Was I **_that_** drunk, or was he being serious? I opened my eyes slowly, trying to keep my face from skewing with complete surprise. I scanned over his features twice for any indication that he might have been lying. That there was something wrong, because something should have definitely been wrong - how could he have zero issues with what I had just told him?

“I beg your pardon?” _I think ‘what the fuck’ would have sufficed, genius._

Fogarty chuckled, then leaned forward to kiss me. It was short and sweet; he captured my bottom lip between his teeth and tugged it playfully before releasing. When he noticed my expression hadn’t shifted, he sighed and dropped his hands to my waist. “I know you’re attracted to him. That’s just expected, that’s how it’s always been. And I know that Sweet Pea is attracted to you. It’s not like I don’t catch him looking when and where he shouldn’t be,” he took a step back, eyes feasting on the parts of the dress that left very little to his imagination, “And we share most of everything else, so I maybe figured …” he trailed off, lips threatening to pull into a smile. 

My brows lifted, dubious with my response, “What, you thought you would share me, too?” 

“Would you deny the opportunity to fuck him?”

I dropped my arms to my sides, unsure if this was some kind of trick he was playing. “He wouldn’t. I’m yours.” 

“What if I gave him permission?” Fangs fired back, though it wasn’t without a smile, no doubt in response to my words. 

“What if I told you I already had.” 

“So you … knew? You told him it was alright?” 

“A few months ago, yeah -“

“Months? A few _months_ ago?” I asked in disbelief. There was a small part of me that was offended he had offered me up like I was one of his whores. 

Then, for a brief moment, I felt embarrassed. 

“Would it make you feel better if I presented it as a form of punishment?” Not sure of what to say in response, he sighed again and wandered over to the bedroom door. “Sweet Pea?” He called into the dark apartment; I heard the door next to ours open, then close. Joining us in Fangs’ room, he shut the door promptly behind him and turned to his friend, eyes noticeably not looking at me. 

“Nothing you’ve told me upsets me, and I’m not calm because I don’t love you, or value you. I would prefer you were a well-kept woman, and I meant it when I said I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” he brought a hand up to my cheek, brushing his thumb over my lips, no doubt smearing my lipstick across my chin. There was a devious smirk that erupted then, his eyes glimmering mischievously. “I’d like to watch him fuck you. Tonight. And if it makes you feel better, he can do so mercilessly. As punishment.”

“Punishment?” 

“Or, as a gift to me. I think that’s a fair request.” He nodded, mostly to himself. Of course, I had to keep reminding myself that he was stone cold sober whilst I couldn’t walk a straight line if my life depended on it. “Would you like that?” 

I swallowed nervously, looking to where Sweet Pea by the door. He was waiting for my approval, though I could see the desire and want in his burning hues. It was incredible how much restraint he had, given that I had watched him beat his fair share of onlookers for shits and giggles many times.  

I nodded once, watching satisfied grins stretch across both of their faces; Fangs took to his desk chair, facing it towards the bed before he looked to where his friend remained frozen, then gestured to me. “Well? Don’t keep her waiting.”

Sweet Pea didn’t pay Fangs any attention. He walked towards the bed until his knees hit the edge, and then he took my hand to pull me to him. I didn’t stop moving until we were pressed together as closely as we had been at Beta; the same look of confusion and excitement mirrored in his eyes. 

He slowly eased the straps of my dress down my shoulders, then came around my back to yank the zipper down in one swift motion. Apparently, he had a lot of practice. I shivered at the sudden exposure to the cold air but also felt relieved that it felt a little easier to breathe with one layer being pulled over my head. 

Tossing the dress somewhere behind him, he returned his hands to my hips to push me back into the pillows.

“That’s a lovely piece,” Fangs mused from his seat, eyes hungrily drinking in the black ensemble that was keeping my stockings in place; they were pleased to find my bottom bare, and I thanked myself for the last minute decision to ditch my underwear completely for the evening. 

“It’s your gift.” I was thankful my voice was still strong. “Sweet Pea helped me pick it out.”

Instantly, he smiled; when he looked it over this time, I could tell he was appreciating it in a different light. 

I settled into the pillows and relaxed, adjusting their position behind my head to keep me propped up at an angle;  I then watched Sweet Pea pull his shirt over his head, revealing all of his hard work and glory. My eyes immediately ran over every surface of skin that was inked, memorizing the intricate linework that wrapped around both arms and his chest, having never seen it so closely before. He was likely one of the most gorgeous human beings I had ever seen, and I wondered how I had gotten so lucky as to have two of the hottest men in town both want me. 

With the opportunity here, kneeling before me, erection restricted by his heather grey sweats, I swallowed my fears and morals, deciding that if I was a dead woman walking come tomorrow morning, I might as well get the most out of it. I reached into the waistband and wrapped my fingers around his warm length. Sweet Pea’s teeth caught his bottom lip with sharp inhale, eyes threatening to fall shut as I pumped him slowly, thumb gently rubbing over his tip. 

His abdomen flexed under my knuckles, the cut shape of his transversus abdominis just barely concealing his sharp hip bones. I placed my other hand on his stomach, then slowly sat upright, pushing it further up his chiseled torso; once I was seated, and only a mere three inches away from his most sensitive area, I leaned forward a licked a single strip from where his waistband started, up to his belly button. 

Shuddering in anticipation, his hand glides effortlessly between my legs, coming up to the apex of my thighs to gently pry them apart, fingers brushing against my glistening slit. 

“You’re soaked,” his voice wasn’t surprised, more amused than anything else. He ran his thumb up between the folds and circled my clit teasingly. “Guess we won’t be needing this.” 

I watched him toss a small blue bottle of lube onto the bed, then groaned as two long digits sunk into me, grip on his cock involuntarily tightening when they curled. Elated with how comfortable this seemed to be, I wrapped my hand around the tags hanging around his neck and pulled him down, seizing his lips with mine.

He rested himself down over top of me, careful not to hit any of the enclosures holding up the sheer black stockings. His hand was lazy with his ministrations, and it was during this time I melted into the pillows beneath me while I allowed my tongue to explore the new and unfamiliar territory hungrily.  

It was different from the last time. He was holding back, and being cautious. It probably wasn’t a far fetched idea that he was just as nervous about this as I was, no doubt even more so with my boyfriend in the room. Even if it were his idea, I expected there to be some reservations. 

I pushed all of those thoughts from my head. It wasn’t until I was gasping desperately into his mouth that he pulled his hand away with a cocky grin, bringing the fingers to my mouth with a quiet demand for me to _‘suck’_ breaking our silence. Fogarty was still seated in his chair, hand hidden in his jeans. 

After shedding his jeans, Sweet Pea hand fisted into my hair, forcing my attention back to him. He was waiting on his knees, strategically placed between my thighs; my legs wrapped loosely around his waist and pulled him closer, eyes darting down to where he hung freely. 

**_Wow._ **

His movements were fluid and gentle, a surprise given his enormous size. He pulled me down until I was no longer at an angle and laying flat on the mattress, then cupped both palms under my knees to push them back. It felt like I was being folded into a pretzel, taking on more of his weight so he could roll his hips against mine. 

I took my bottom lip between my teeth and reached a hand between our bodies. His cock was warm, and precum had built at the very tip, just begging to be tasted. Instead, I purposely massaged his tip against my slick folds with a hearty hum, then positioned him exactly where we wanted him to be. 

Sweet Pea was a patient man. Not typically, at least, I didn’t expect this to be a new change of heart. But he waited. Eyes burning with desire and lust, his restraint was admirable. “You’re nervous.” I commented, smoothing my thumb over his cheek.

His lashes fluttered against my knuckles, breath exhaling with an audible whooshing noise. I watched the column of his throat bob as he swallowed, just barely nodding his head in response. 

“Don’t be.” 

He watched me closely for a while, unmoving, eyes darting back and forth from one to the other, and then to my lips, or my half-naked body. When he was ready, he leaned forward to seal his mouth over mine once more, and slowly sunk himself into me. 

_Oh my_ **_god_ ** _._

Squeal caught in my throat, my eyes flew open as his thick length burned my insides, pressing into me far deeper than any man had before. It was painful, the impact sharp and unforgiving, and it brought a swarm of tears to my eyes almost instantly. 

After a few slow thrusts, it hurt a little less. Sweet Pea righted himself and moved his hands from my knees to my ankles.

“Does it feel good?” The voice was deep and velvety; I was too focused on the man above me to respond, my hands gripping his thighs as he slowly inched his way in and out of me, no doubt an attempt to stretch me out. “Fucking my girl?” 

“Shit,” Sweet Pea nearly buckled forward at the words but kept his grip on my ankles steady, lids heavy with lust. “You’re so fucking tight.” His breathing was beginning to stagger, and I expected his resolve to vanish completely. I’ve wondered what fucking Sweet Pea would be like for months and thought I might explode if he didn’t pick it up sooner. 

“Is he bigger than me?” The question didn’t sound angry or accusing, but merely curious.

I nodded once shyly, “Yeah,” my voice was quiet, eyes focused on the slick cock that penetrated me, “Definitely.” 

“You like that? A big cock?” Fangs appeared next to the bed, this time his hands pulled at his belt and trousers, undoing them in one smooth gesture to reveal his six-and-a-half inches of uncut glory. “He’s gonna cum inside your pussy with that big cock. Fill you up.” 

I noticed that his other hand held his phone, only it was turned on its side. Voyeurism, a threesome _and_ a sex tape? Fangs definitely had a kinky side. 

Sweet Pea snapped his hips forward into mine roughly as though to punctuate Fangs’ remark, forcing my eyes back to his. It seemed that my boyfriend’s words spurred some sort of frenzy within him, leaving me grappling for the sheets beneath me as he began to mercilessly pound into me, barring no caution. 

Mewls and moans tumbled past my lips, desperate to have him fully pressed to the hilt each time he pulled away. I let my legs fall to either side, hands moving to grab his ass and keep him close, “Fuck!” I gasped as he pressed deeper into me, sensing what I wanted, “That feels good.”

His stamina came and went. Every few minutes, his strength would come back and he would relentlessly fuck me into the mattress, and when he feared he would push himself too close to his edge, he would stop. 

I hated it when he stopped.

Sweet Pea dropped to his elbows and brought his face within inches of mine, prompting my lips to surge forward and take capture over his while my hands found their way into his raven strands. Our bodies pressed tightly together, our hips slowing to something a little more comfortable and effortless, lazily rolling them together as we caught our breath. 

“You’re fucking incredible,” he breathed, quietly enough for me to hear. “I can’t believe I’ve been listening to you cum for seven months and never fucked you until now.” 

I couldn’t help but smile, finding some sentiment in his words. “You can have me anytime you’d like.” 

The right corner of his mouth lifted into a slow grin, “What was that?” 

“I said you can have me.” 

There was a sound that resembled a growl that erupted through the room; both males moaned in pleasure, the melody of our bodies filling the warm air. “Give it to her.” Fangs encouraged, moving the camera towards where Sweet Pea’s hips met mine.

“If you need me to slow down, let me know,” the man above me whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to my neck. I nodded, curious as he took my legs and positioned them over his shoulders and moved until he was settled on his knees; then, he leaned over me until my rear was lifted off the mattress. Once he was comfortable, he returned to his incessant speed. 

Each sharp snap sent a painful jolt through my body, his grunts and breathing becoming more erratic with every powerful movement. My own moans began to turn into cries, and for a moment, I worried we might break the bed, or wake the neighbours. I was sure Fangs and I had never been this loud, at least not to where you couldn’t distinguish I was crying from pain or from pleasure.

“Oh, yes,” came a throaty moan from my boyfriend, who was still kneeling next to our heads, cock hung free, aching to be touched. I was nearing my end, and the boys were aware. “Fill her pussy, fill it up.” Fangs demanded, and he no longer cared for the phone in his hand, but rather placed a thick hand around his length and tugged. 

I turned my head so that I could watch him, biting into the pillow next to me as a scream bubbled up my throat and past my lips; they laughed together, the sound both wicked and exhilarating. 

“What was that scream?” Fangs laughed again, clearly enjoying that I was taking this ‘punishment’ the way he intended.

So I screamed again, this time without the pillow, out into the open room as loudly as I could. 

“Good girl.” Sweet Pea’s voice had lost all gentleness, and his eyes were lost behind his bangs. A large hand came up to wrap around my throat, his other holding my leg, hoping to keep me still and pinned as Fangs’ hand came forward to flick my nipples teasingly. 

Soon his thrusts began to falter, and his cheeks had taken on a beautiful pink blush, indicating to me that he was close. Unsure of where the sudden bound of confidence had come from, I pushed myself up until I was on my elbows and locked my eyes with his, “Fuck, Sweet Pea,” I let out in a hiss, tweaking one of my nipples between my fingers, “I’m gonna cum.” 

Pupils wide and dilated, his groaned and pinched his brows together; as the coil in my stomach bound tightly with each precise stroke, my final push over the edge was a gentle slap of Fogarty’s fingers against my clit. 

I let my head fall back, a slew of curses stringing from my mouth as my thighs squeezed around Sweet Pea’s frame in an attempt to still his restless need. One, two, three more thrusts and his jaw fell slack, muscles in his lower abdomen contracting as thick ropes of warm cum filled me. 

He fell on top me, arms shaking, chests heaving as we sucked air into our burning lungs. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled himself from me and left me squirming under him; two pairs of brown eyes watched as his cock sprang free, then pleased hums filled the air as I felt a warm substance trickle down my exposed region.

“Beautiful, angel,” Sweet Pea breathed, using one of his fingers to collect the dripping cum and bring it back to my opening. 

“Roll over,” Fangs smacked my thigh encouragingly, his smile both warm and sinful. “It’s my turn.”

Feeling spent, I parted my legs just enough for Fangs to fit comfortably between them; he pushed himself into me with one smooth, fluid motion, until he was pressed to the hilt and released a pleased moan. Unlike Sweet Pea’s slow crawl to victory, my boyfriend seemed more eager to add to the cum dripping out from my pussy. 

“Keep that fuckin’ back arched, baby.”

My face pressed into the soaked sheets, and I let out a tired sigh when my aching cunt pushed against his thrusts, causing his cock to misalign and pop out. 

He let out a displeased growl, “You know, it’s awfully rude to push me out like that.” 

“I’m sorry.” I breathed, trying to steady myself on my elbows. 

“Hm? Are you?” His fingers laced through my hair, grabbing a fistful to pull me back until my arms couldn’t hold onto the mattress anymore. It was in this position he kept me locked, hips thrusting up into me hard, “I don’t think you are just yet.”

The room filled with the sound of our bodies, skin on skin deafening in the mix of humming appliances that filled the empty space. Each hard snap was met with an angry growl, reminding me of a more primitive state. Very rarely did our nights end like this - I was so used to his gentle demeanour. 

He dropped my body suddenly, slowing his thrusts whilst he inhaled deeply and grabbed my asscheeks, pulling them just so to expose my rear. 

“You have the cutest little asshole, you know that?” He asked, smoothing his hands down my back to press me into the sheets again. I allowed a tired giggle in response. “We’ll have to put another cock in your asshole soon, hmm? How’s that sound?” 

I moaned a reply, not quite sure if the word was something of agreement or refusal. 

“Papi will get you next time, _Angelita_. Since you’re such a good girl.” 

I could feel another tingling sensation beginning to pool in my abdomen; I let out a distressed cry, hand moving to the slick folds between my legs. I could feel his balls as he thrust deep into me, his moans loud in my ear as he covered my body with his. My mouth opened, but no sounds other than choked breathing could be heard. 

“Don’t move,” he breathed, holding me still as he chased his orgasm, moans escalating into deep grunts; soon, he was holding my hips tightly against him as his cock pulsed inside of me. My eyes opened slowly as he milked it through, and I looked up to where Sweet Pea sat next to me, watching in awe as Fangs’ cock worked my used cunt. 

Then, he was up and kneeling behind me again, and I could feel both sets of eyes transfixed on my opening as Fogarty removed his length from me; their guttural moans of approval were loud and appreciative as a warm substance slowly began to trail down the inside of my thigh. 

“Shit, look at how full she is.” 

“Can you push just a little for us? Mhm, like that.” 

I relaxed my hips, the next angle encouraging the cum that had pooled at my entrance to cover my clit and inner thighs. I felt absolutely used, and wrecked, and dirty, but no matter what I did now, there would be no turning back. 

Even when they settled into the sheets on either side of me, and even when their breathing levelled out, and Fogarty’s snoring took place of my pleasure, I laid there utterly paralyzed. Unable to move, and no desire to move, not even when the exhaustion of sleep finally came for me; stuck between two hard chests, bound with strong arms, safely protected and completely blissed. 


End file.
